Caged Hawk
by BlueCanary
Summary: A young woman hears voices in her head...the voices of wolves.


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Author's Notes – This story was originally written as a short fiction/character biography, but when it hit seven pages I realized it was too long for what I needed at the time. I did a half-assed job of editing it, set it aside, and wrote a shorter, more pointed real "bio" for the roleplaying game the character was involved in, and only showed this (in a rough draft stage) to a few people who wanted a better idea of what my character was like. A lot of those people liked it…who woulda thunk it? Half a year later, I dug this up, edited it a bit, and am suddenly provoked to show it to people who might have an interest. Constructive criticism is very, very welcome. Praise and adulation are nice too, but hardly constructive. *grin*

The Wheel of Time and all original concepts therein are property of Robert Jordan. The character of Luos Carnich was thought up by Aldazar, but is shared by all the Wolfkin members of Dragonmount for RP and fictional purposes – thusly used with permission. All other characters are original and mine. Don't do anything with this fic other than read it or print it without permission. Thanks.

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Caged Hawk

By BlueCanary - [**galliard_girl@hotmail.com**][1]

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Hurry, brother! The calls from the wolves were insistent and demanding. They knew something was very, very wrong.

Luos Carnich hurried.

The insistent call from wolf to wolf had found him this morning, right before dawn. Now the time approached sunset, and he still had a short distance yet to travel. He forced himself to walk, not run, and save his strength. He did not know exactly what he would be facing when he finally reached his destination. The understanding of the wolves was decidedly vague, the new Wolfkin was doing her level best to block the wolves from her conscious thought. Now the wolves could truly do nothing except pass along to Luos her situation, or what they understood of it. Caged, that they understood. Pain, too, and rage. But what the wolves did not understand, and Luos comprehended all too well was black depression…an intense desire for it all to _end_…

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A snow-white hawk, cold, so very cold, screaming defiance, battering her wings against the bars of a cage, all a futile gesture as the trap remains around her…

Luos forced himself to move faster, golden eyes narrowed and jaw set. Nothing good would come of this, and he feared rightly that what had already passed was horrible, but he had to do what he could to prevent things from becoming worse. It was all he could do.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dallan Kirkgard had seen many things in his life that had frightened him. Years of turning to the North with dread and a hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword had assured that simple fact. Death itself no longer made him afraid, though his dreams were still occasionally visited by images of those lost…friends, fellow soldiers, family, his wife… Gah, he thought suddenly, shaking his head. This is no time to go to those thoughts…especially, he decided, licking his lips nervously, with _her_ so close. Even chained, she had the Dark One's own power…

As if to remind him, a muffled clanking suddenly broke the relative silence of the night…and then a wailing howl shattered it. Without a thought, Dallan found himself reaching for his long knife as the eerie noise caused the hair on his arms to prickle. He grunted quietly in surprise, and started to move further into the cellar, to the back corner cell from which the noise echoed. But howl suddenly cut off into a choking noise, then silence. He winced slightly, but eventually turned back to lean against the wall by the entrance to the cellar, which had been converted to a dungeon of sorts for the express purpose of holding the mad Darkfriend. The guardsmen had tried other means of keeping her until Lord-Captain Justandere could return and pronounce official sentence, but their efforts had not worked well. The cellar it was, then.

The tired guardsman started again as the eerie howl echoed through the cellar once more…this time it was not so much plaintive as angry, and full of pain both emotional and physical. "Light protect us," he muttered… Yet he couldn't help but move further up the stairs as the howl cut off again with an almost sickening suddenness. Dallan shook his head. How long had Mayelle been a Darkfriend before this madness came upon her? Despite the girl's ranting, wild behavior, and periods of near insensibility, Dallan could still not believe it. But it was the only explanation that made sense – within a few days she had gone from a headstrong, though friendly young woman to…to…he could not even think of a word to describe it.

Dallan sighed. Those things, in and of themselves, while frightening, were not necessarily signs of being a Darkfriend. But then her eyes had begun to bloody well _glow _as she almost rabidly attacked anyone near her. Even now, her once dark brown eyes remained golden-yellow. 'Beasts' eyes,' Dallan thought, frowning. He hoped, for the girl's soul's sake, that she had not gone to the Dark One willingly… 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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…the hawk continued to fight what she could not hope to overcome. Bars are stronger than wings and feathers. Living things are so fragile compared to metal. Defeated, the hawk drops to the bottom of the cage to sprawl with wings flung wide and feathers broken or pulled free, shivering a little in the cold. One wide golden eye peers up, out of the cage for a moment longer before closing, forced to admit being conquered…

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A third howl crashed through his thoughts then, loud, insistent, before pitching up into a scream, then silence. A long moment passed before there was another sound. Not a howl, but a dull _thud _that smacked of finality. Dallan didn't look away from the cellar door as a scrape of metal – the rusted lock of the storeroom – echoed behind him, or even blink when another man mirrored his posture on the other side of the door.

"That should keep her silent, for a time at least," said the other man, a shadowy figure in the wavering light thrown by the one torch. His voice, disturbingly enough, sounded positively gleeful. Dallan sighed, and when he spoke there was a trace of disgust in his tone.

"Did you beat her senseless this time, Jaycen? That's what it sounded like. I thought you were only going to gag her, keep her quiet." 

Jaycen Aranare grimaced, flattening his lips into a thin line. "The little bitch bit me, Kirkgard, and before that attacked my own daughter, so hold your tongue. She'll be dead by this time tomorrow anyway. She's a Light-forsaken Darkfriend, not worth a second thought." Dallan turned away at this, schooling his features to remain expressionless.

'If she's so worthless,' he thought silently, 'why have you taken the back of your hand to her more times than I can count. Brutal bastard.' Dallan half-lidded his eyes and decided that he would speak to the Lord-Captain after all this was over about Aranare. The man had no place in the guard. Dallan shook his head slowly, and secretly hoped both that Mayelle would not awaken again until the formality of her trial, and that Aranare would be sent to the front lines…somewhere, anywhere but here. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing this would all end…

As if on cue, the sound of horses and a fairly large group of people could be heard, muffled, through the wooden door of the cellar. Dallan and Jaycen barely had time to straighten up before the door was flung open, and Lord-Captain Aeran Justandere strode through the door. He was not a physically imposing man – like many Saldaeans, he was not particularly tall or large. But his dark eyes were burning with tightly controlled anger, and from that the two guards shrunk back in spite of themselves.

"Where," said Justandere slowly, "is my daughter?" Jaycen Aranare looked away from the fire in those eyes, while Dallan swallowed and held himself steady, finding within him the courage to answer Justandere's wrath with an answer.

"Three days past, sir, Mayelle fell ill. At first we thought it was just that, illness…but she began to attack people, Lord-Captain. First it was Guardsman Aranare's daughter, Jacyna, for no reason while they spoke in the gardens. Then when Guardsman Dayne attempted to stop her, Mayelle turned on him. We locked her in her room, Lord-Captain, we could do nothing else. Always, for the first day, there was someone in her room to prevent her from hurting herself." Dallan gave Aeran a steady look. "We thought it was a passing fit, a sickness of the mind, sir. She seemed fine at first, regaining control and appearing calm. Even apologizing to Willam Dayne for her actions. But the second day, she started to do it again, even worse. She threw herself against the door, begging to be let out, and she clawed at it until her fingernails bled."

Dallan paused, though not for long, as Aeran's demanding glare compelled him to continue. "And her eyes, sir…they're not normal any longer." A slightly longer pause ensued. "They're yellow, yellow beasts' eyes."

Aeran Justandere set his lips in a grim line, and pushed past both Guardsmen to the door of the storeroom. Glancing back at Dallan and Jaycen, he made his command simple.

"Open it. Now. I would see my daughter." Jaycen didn't move, though it was he who had the keys. With a muttered oath, Dallan snatched them away from him, and strode across the cellar to the storeroom door, and shoved the key into the rusty lock. He didn't warn Aeran about the girl's appearance. 'What would it do?' he thought helplessly as he pulled the door open. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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…the hawk remains still in the cage, the only sign of life the occasional discernible movement that signals that she still yet breathes, or shudders in a vain attempt to escape the icy cold that refuses to leave her. Suddenly the door to the cage is opened, but the hawk seems too hurt, too defeated to care, to try and make her escape. The falconer, inexperienced and feeling guilty for the damage to the creature, attempts to help it, but only receives her talons deeply raking his glove for his pains… 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

Even a battle-hardened man like Aeran Justandere could not help but go white at the sight that greeted his eyes behind the door. There was little light, as the torch several paces away flickered weakly against the many shadows of the cellar, but there was enough to see by. More than enough to see. Mayelle lay sprawled in the storeroom, curled up on her side, arms and legs drawn close to her chest against the unforgiving cold stone of the cellar floor. Though her tangled hair had come loose from its braid and fell across most of her face and shoulders, the bruises that darkened her cheek and temple were still clearly visible, as was the blood that stained her raw and broken hands and what remained of her ragged dress. She shivered a little, even in semi-consciousness, and tried to tuck her head further into her arms…which set off the metallic clanking of the chains that bound her wrists together, and her ankles.

Even knowing his men were watching his every move, Aeran moved forward swiftly, crouching down next to his daughter, and reaching out a hand that shook to touch her cheek. But before he could even touch her, Mayelle opened her eyes, and Aeran stopped his motion only inches from her face.

Shining yellow gold flashed under the shadow of her tangled hair, and in the darkness they seemed to glow eerily, unnaturally bright. Only a fortnight ago, Aeran realized with surprise, they had been brown, normal Saldaean eyes, dark and tilted in shape. But no longer. Still, he reached out further to lay his hand against her face, while moving to pick her up from the ground at the same time. But Mayelle's reaction was too swift.

She jerked away from his touch, shoving herself up to a sitting position, skidding across the floor, a low growl pitching in her throat. Her voice, when she used it, was raspy, with more than a touch of that same growl remaining in it as she spoke brokenly.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

"My daughter," Aeran began softly after a moment, "I do not believe you are a Darkfriend…" He was interrupted by the beginnings of Jaycen's cry of protest, and Justandere whipped his head around to glare out the door. "Silence yourself Aranare. Or you will be silenced." Turning back to his daughter, whose golden gaze remained unblinking and full of some emotion he could not identify, Aeran tried again, his voice low, and distinctly pained.

"I do not believe it. But there is something wrong. You must trust me if we are to find out what it is. Come. I will send for an Aes Sedai, of the Yellow Ajah. If there is aught wrong with you, she would find it. But you must leave this place. The Guardsmen were afraid, daughter. But it will be well now, I promise." Mayelle's expression flickered, and Aeran sensed victory, and he pressed on gently, moving forward again. "Come daughter, let us return to your room…"

Again the deep and frightening growl ripped from the girl's throat, and Mayelle pulled herself against the wall, gathering her legs under her as if prepared to spring…or flee. "No! No!" she snarled. "They call, they speak all the time, and I cannot help but listen…" She trailed off, almost sobbing, but as her father tried to touch her shoulder again, she yelled inarticulately, almost a howl, and clawed at his face with a wildly swung hand. Aeran pulled his head back, but still, her broken fingernails found a mark on his cheek, cutting into his flesh, and as he stumbled a pace backward, the shallow gash began to bleed, staining the gray in his beard crimson. Shocked beyond words, Aeran stood silent as Mayelle choked back another sob, and then looked, truly _looked_ at him… "Oh…Father…" she began as her gaze slid down from his own shocked expression to the hands she clutched before her, noting her blood on them, as well as Aeran's on the edge of her fingernails.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes and turning her head away. "_Sa souvraya niende misain ye," _she murmured, so quiet as to be barely audible, even in the dead silence of the tiny corner of cellar.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

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…the hawk stands again, pressed into the corner of her cage, wings tightly pulled to her side, head tucked down and bright eyes shut. She no longer fights, or tries to escape, or fears anything. She just waits. Like any creature without recourse, denied flight, denied freedom, denied sanity, she hopes for an ending. She waits for it…

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

The sudden commotion and flurry of voices outside the storeroom did not pierce Aeran Justandere's shocked consciousness until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze lightly. Startled, he turned around, only to see a man with a hat pulled low over his brow, dressed in leathers with a sword at his side. Aeran looked beyond, to the guardsmen – Jaycen looked afraid, while Dallan looked both troubled and relieved at the same time. Confused, Justandere looked back at the newcomer.

"You cannot help her," the stranger said simply. "I can." Before Aeran could even come up with a suitable protest, the stranger looked up. He had yellow eyes, set in a darkly featured face under a fringe of deep black hair.

"Please. Let me," said Luos Carnich, his voice, his very expression edged with the tiredness he feels down to his bones. "She is not sick, or a Darkfriend." Here his voice became angry, almost vicious before returning to normal. "Your daughter is only…confused."

"What are you talking about?" Aeran demanded quietly, absently rubbing his face, smearing the blood from his cuts further. "Who are you? _What_ are you, with eyes as yellow as a beasts'…and like Mayelle's?" He wanted an answer very badly. Luos could tell. He empathized with the man, but there was only so much he could be told.

"The wolves called me, and I listened, and now I run with them," Luos said simply. He paused, and looked beyond Aeran to where Mayelle still stood silently, facing the corner, her eyes closed. "She is refusing to listen." Quietly, sadly, he adds, "The hawk is too well caged." The Wolfbrother looked back to Aeran. "You must let her come with me…or she will die. Or go mad, which is the same thing. Believe me."

"You can help her," Aeran said, at his end. It was less a question than a plea.

"I can."

"Then do so." Ignoring the looks of Dallan and Jaycen, Aeran stepped aside, and walked out of the cell.

With a small sigh of relief, Luos turned his eyes to the girl. Still she remained silent and unmoving…but not unaware, he knew. After a moment's thought, he firmly pushed into her mind the mental image of Mayelle that the wolves had been sending to him from the beginning.

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The snow white hawk screams defiance at her captors and beats her wings against the bars of her cage…

"No, no, no!" Mayelle cried, her head whipping around, eyes open and flashing her anger and fear. "I am not a hawk, I am not a wolf, I am not a Darkfriend, leave me alone, don't _touch_ me, I'm normal, I'm not _like_ that." She was very close to the edge, Luos decided, noting her shaking, her tense frame.

"You are a woman," he confirmed. Mayelle blinked in surprise, startled from her fear. "But," Luos continued, "you are also wolf. You are the hawk, or do you deny that you fought like one, and received the pain it did?" He touched his own cheek where hers is bruised. "And you are certainly not a Darkfriend, and I will not touch you if you do not wish it. But you must listen to me. The wolves call because they only wish to help you, for you to join them, and to join us. Others like you, humans who run with the wolves." Luos realized he had her attention and not her fear, and relaxed a fraction. There was more wrong here than he had even begun to guess…but he had a chance to fix it, now. At least as best as he was able. "You are not mad. I hear them too," he added quietly. Silently, he sent out a plea to one of the wolves nearby, who answered him by sending her thoughts to the girl.

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White-hawk-who-fights-the-cage-in-cold, listen to our brother. Join our hunt. Join with the two-leg-brothers-of-wolves. Learn from them, and us.

Too surprised to resist as she usually did, Mayelle listened, eyes closed as her mind examined the clear images that formed the thoughts of the wolf. Luos waited, hoping by the Light that this would work out. Though it did not come from the girl, the stink of the Shadow was present in the cellar. Something was amiss. They needed to leave, and quickly; whatever caused the smell was dangerous, yet the girl's sanity was of more import right now. As Luos' golden eyes traveled to the bruises marring the girl's face, he realized her life might be at risk as well. When Mayelle spoke again, it startled him. Her voice was still low, but decidedly clear.

"I will go with you." She paused and shuddered slightly. "Can we leave…now?" Nodding, relieved, Luos stepped outside the cell, fixing his yellow eyes on Dallan and Jaycen.

"The keys to her chains. Now." Dallan handed them over without argument…the guard had welcomed an explanation, and a way to get rid of this problem without needing to execute a girl he had known from infancy. Luos nodded at the relief he saw in the man's face – he was not like to be the source of the stink, he thought, though the _other_ guard was a different matter… The Wolfbrother moved back into the storeroom, and hurriedly unchained Mayelle, dropping the metal to the stone below, then after a moment, removing his own cloak to drape over her shoulders.

"We leave now. Come." The Wolfbrother walked out of the cell, trusting the girl to follow. She did not disappoint him. But first she moved to her father. Aeran's eyes were troubled as she leaned close to whisper a few words in his ear, and then gently kissed his cheek. But he accepted it. He saw no other option. Whatever she said caused his expression to tighten even further, and his eyes to narrow in sudden anger. But his voice, when he spoke, was soft.

"Be well, daughter. Light protect you."

Without a further word or glance, she walked out of the cellar, followed closely by Luos. In the wake of their departure, Aeran fixed his eyes on Jaycen, who had been cowed into silence by the force of Aeran's personality and Luos'. The guardsman swallowed as he felt the brunt of his Captain's considerable anger directed at him, as well as a cold and very personal rage.

"Jaycen Aranare," said Lord-Captain Justandere, "you have much to answer for." 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Outside, as Luos and Mayelle walked from the keep, he asked her quietly, "He's a Darkfriend, isn't he? The Guardsman." He knew he didn't need to indicate which he spoke of. As a pack of wolves appeared out of the twilight shadows, Mayelle hesitated only a fraction of a moment before nodding once.

"Aye. I could…see it. No. Smell it. It choked me. _He_ choked me…" Mayelle's hand, perhaps unconsciously, traveled up to her bare throat, which, the Wolfbrother noticed, was bruised as her face. Her expression was fearful, no, Luos realized, terrified for a moment. He had been right. There was more wrong here than he could possibly have guessed. The teaching would be a long…and painful one.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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…and finally the hawk flies again…but is she free?

~FIN~

   [1]: mailto:galliardgirl@hotmail.com



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